Stoneglow: A Name, A Vision, A Beginning
When I started this site, I knew I wasn’t just building a portfolio. I was creating a space that feels true to the way I move through the world: quiet, grounded, curious. A space shaped by light, landscape, and the moments in between. The name Stoneglow itself reflects a kind of contrast and balance. Stone is solid and still. Glow is fleeting and alive. That tension is at the heart of much of what I make. You’ll see it in dramatic natural scenes softened by fog, in the texture of moss clinging to coastal rock, or in the stillness of a single mushroom lit by forest light.
My name is Jeremy Vohwinkle, and I’ve been chasing those kinds of moments for a long time. I began taking photography seriously about 25 years ago, but things really came into focus while studying landscape architecture and traveling across Europe in 2002. I had a 35mm camera, a backpack full of film, and no particular plan beyond learning and documenting what caught my eye. Since then, I’ve traveled across North America, Europe, and parts of the Caribbean, always with a camera nearby. The process of seeing—of slowing down and paying attention—has shaped how I experience a place, how I make art, and how I view the world.
For over a decade, cooking was at the center of my creative life. As a chef, I opened a restaurant and spent over a decade putting ideas on a plate, building dishes the same way I now build images: one layer at a time, guided by instinct and mood. It was a demanding, fulfilling chapter, but all those years in the kitchen, away from open skies and quiet trails, began to take their toll. I realized I needed to return to nature, not just for inspiration, but for balance as well. So I sold the restaurant and shifted my focus. I wanted to create in a way that felt rooted again.
Today, I’m based in northwest Washington, surrounded by towering trees, misty mountains, and a coastline that keeps changing with the tide. Much of my work is now rooted in this region, as a traveling chef and photographer. Still, the themes I return to—solitude, scale, texture—have followed me wherever I roam.
This blog is a place for stories, process notes, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and the kind of inspiration that doesn’t always make it into the finished work. I’ll be sharing not just what I make, but sometimes the why and how. Maybe even a little of what I’m still figuring out along the way.
Thanks for stopping in. I’m glad you’re here.